


The Outstanding Chicken Debt

by nostalgia



Category: Doctor Who (2005)
Genre: Chickens, Humor, Misunderstandings, Multi, casanova - Freeform, only a wee bit whouffaldi
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-15
Updated: 2016-09-15
Packaged: 2018-08-15 02:45:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8039368
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/nostalgia/pseuds/nostalgia
Summary: The Doctor owes Casanova a chicken. Or does he?





	The Outstanding Chicken Debt

The Doctor strolled through eighteenth-century Paris with a chicken under his arm and Clara Oswald on his heels.

“So, _why_ are taking a chicken to France?” She was having a bit of trouble keeping up, because she'd insisted on getting to dress up for once and the Doctor had in turn insisted on historical accuracy.

“I lost a bet a while back,” the Doctor said, “and it's important to settle your debts.”

“How long ago is 'a while back'?”

“Not long, about six hundred years, give or take.” 

“What sort of bet?” she asked, narrowly avoiding hitting a woman in an equally large dress.

“I said I could I stop the Rutan invasion of Venice in under an hour. It took sixty-eight minutes.” He glanced back at her, looking a bit ashamed. “I was having an off-day.” He stopped in front of a narrow townhouse. “Here we are.” He knocked on the door loudly. 

A maid in a grey dress opened the door. “Yes?”

The Doctor handed the chicken to Clara and produced the psychic paper from a pocket. “I'm the Count of St. Germain, this is my friend, Lady Clara of the well-known Oswald family.”

Clara was having some trouble with the chicken. She tried to angle it so that it couldn't peck her. The maid let them in and led them to the salon. (Clara being quite relived that her dress was able to fit through the doors.)

The room was opulent but tasteful. The Doctor examined the bookshelves and then played a few bars of _Should I Stay Or Should I Go_ on the harpsichord by the window. Clara handed the chicken back to him and took a seat on a the edge of a white chaise lounge. 

“Who are we here to see anyway?” she asked, brushing a chicken feather from her skirt.

“Giacomo Casanova,” said the Doctor, stroking his hen. 

Clara was impressed. “ _The_ Casanova? The greatest lover of all time?”

“The _alleged_ greatest lover of all time,” said the Doctor. He sniffed. “I expect he's over-rated.”

“Is he really good-looking?” she asked. 

“No, he's too skinny and he has a lazy eye.”

The man in question entered the room. “Why did you say you're the Comte de Saint Germain?”

The Doctor turned to face him. “People never let me in when I say I'm just a doctor.”

Casanova looked him up and down. “You changed your face again. Pity, I liked the last one I saw.” He looked at Clara. “And who's your lovely friend?”

“Clara Oswald, and you're not seducing her,” said the Doctor firmly. 

“Don't be such a prude. And why are you holding a chicken?”

“I've come to repay my debt,” said the Doctor with some dignity. 

Casanova stared at him blankly. Clara couldn't help noticing his extremely blue eyes. 

“I owe you a chicken,” said the Doctor. “I thought I'd pop round since I was in the neighbourhood.”

“I think I see the mistake here. It's not a chicken you owe me, it's - “ He glanced at Clara. “But there's a lady in the room.”

“She won't mind,” said the Doctor on her behalf. “She's from the future.”

“Not a chicken,” said Casanova, “but a cock.”

The Doctor looked at his hen. “You don't have to be sexist about it. She's a very sensitive chicken, you know.” 

Clara cleared her throat. “I don't think he means that kind of cock, Doctor.”

The Doctor took a moment to work it out, and then he looked scandalised. “You mean to say I've brought a chicken all this way on a misunderstanding, when all you were after was my virtue?”

“I thought the terms of our wager were quite clear,” said Casanova. 

“Do you have any idea what I had to go through to get this chicken?” the Doctor demanded. “It's not like they sell them in shops. Well, not live ones,” he added. He held out his hen. “Take it. Take my chicken.”

“We can take it back to the farm,” said Clara reasonably, trying to avoid an argument between the alien and history's most famous lover.

“She doesn't _want_ to go back to the farm,” said the Doctor. “She's travelled in time, we can't send her back to a life of endless commercialised egg-production. How would you feel if I took _you_ back to the farm?”

“Doctor, I'm not a chicken.”

“Indeed you are not!” said Casanova, moving closer to her. “It's quite beyond me how you put up with this man.”

“It's complicated,” she said.

“Then perhaps it would be best if we discussed the matter over a meal? There's a wonderful restaurant just -”

“Stop it,” said the Doctor. “Honestly, you're worse than Captain Jack.”

“You're quite welcome to join us, Doctor,” said Casanova, smoothly. 

“You're not my type.”

“I,” said Casanova, confidently, “am everyone's type.”

“You're really not, you know.”

Casanova looked at Clara. “Which would you rather have – this peculiar old man, or me?”

“Don't answer that, Clara,” said the Doctor, “it'll just go to his head.” He was still holding the chicken, which detracted somewhat from his stern demeanour.

“I might choose you,” she said brazenly.

“Don't be absurd, Clara,” said the Doctor.

Sometimes she wondered if he was oblivious on purpose. “I might,” she repeated.

“You don't have to choose,” said Casanova, “I have a very large bed.” 

Clara pondered the threesome possibilities for a few explicit moments before shaking her head. “I don't think that's a good idea. He can't tell a cock from a chicken and you...” she tried to think of something clever and had to settle instead for, “you're probably very busy.”

“It was a mistake anyone could have made!” the Doctor protested. 

“I'm never too busy for intimate company,” Casanova assured her with a slightly lop-sided smile.

Clara shook her head. “You're both ridiculous.”

The chicken clucked. 

“Don't take her side,” the Doctor admonished his hen.

“I'm tired,” declared Clara, “I want to go back to the TARDIS.”

“I have a bed here that you might -”

“Stop trying to seduce me,” she said wearily. She turned to the Doctor, “You can sort out your debt some other time.”

The Doctor nodded and offered the hen to Casanova. “Are you sure you don't want the chicken? Think of all the free eggs you could have. Don't you like eggs?”

“I don't want the chicken.”

The Doctor sighed. “I suppose this means I have a pet chicken now, doesn't it?”

“I'm not cleaning up after it,” said Clara. She pulled the door open and stepped from the room certain that the Doctor would follow her. 

“And remember,” Casanova called after them, “that I am still owed a cock!”


End file.
